A/N: If you recognize this concept from about 10 years back (when I had a slightly different handle and was more active in the community), long time no see! I figured I'd return to this one last time, see what I can wring out of it in terms of writing proficiency and style. Based on the reactions I'm getting from others, this might overall be a hard read, both emotionally and thematically. Do take the CWs (blood, violence, character death, torture, strong language, and doses of existentialism) seriously.

To my early 2010s folk, this one's for you.

Zelda knew what was to happen before it did.

Beneath her, the shadows lengthened. The ground that supported her weight buckled, cracks dancing through volcanic obsidian. An unfeeling magic suffused the air—an air that she had tasted countless times before.

"More of the same," she muttered. They never truly died, after all.

Her thin sword leapt into her palm, free of its sheath with a flash of cold steel. The arcane symbol on the back of her hand blazed in tandem with the fire of her eyes. She let the course of her pulsating heart carry her blade, settling level with her shoulders.

From out of the obsidian plane where she once stood manifested the bulbous, dripping frame of a singular eye. The sphere levitated, drenched in wisps of heavy vapor, black as the coldest nightmare.

Then the whispers began anew: remorseless, they left no room for doubt or self-assurance.

Just like any other day.

Repetition set Zelda's body into action. Her dress and armor swayed, the flames coursing down her weapon leaving a lingering tail before it sank deep into the creature's amorphous flesh, down to the hilt and through its murky depths.

The creature crushed beneath her weight, howling and screeching, eventually settled at her feet. Their essence dwindled, a spent flame, an ashen and lifeless snowfall. From between monoliths of stone, the wind, the buzzard circling on high, pecked at the shadow's fading body before sinking formless claws into it and carrying its remains toward some distant horizon.

She nodded, though there was no one around to share the gesture.

The whispers, while not exactly pleasant to hear—with all their doom and gloom, their silhouettes still clinging to the insides of her head like wilted flowers, rooted in the corpses of her dead allies—had grown easier to tune out. With experience and time, she could replace their incessant whining and moaning with static. For a brief moment she had the peace and quiet she so desperately craved. One less burden, one more obstacle overcome.

The isolation was another matter entirely.

She wiped a hand across her brow and winced as the scab below her hairline twitched. It was the smallest of grievances, barely even a scratch.

Her steps continued with their familiar rhythm. The echoes kept the shadows down below at a comfortable distance. After all, there was no fault with finding some negligible comfort or indulgence amidst the misery. Small victories.

A clang resonated as her left foot crossed a light, sweeping brook. The sound of water, in all its pleasant gurgling dimensions, did little to force the bile back down into her chest.

The deep gashes in the breastplate, blood-crusted, were blemished with rust, eaten away under wind and weather. Left to its own devices, the chest-piece might soon become one with the landscape, fading in luster and sheen until it was but a single lost relic left to rot at the bottom of the riverbed.

Zelda moved her gaze away. Yet another remnant—just one more fossil, a sign of a past left wanting.

Steadying her breath, she bent to her knees and placed one hand atop the armor. There was no more life there than in the dead trees and the dust-stained grasses, full of insect husks and branches coated in mildew, that plagued her steps.

A moment of meditation passed. She stood, got back to walking.

The current carried to her a familiar face, smiling beneath the maelstrom. She bent in for a closer look. Like glass made fluid, the water welcomed her scrutiny, opening down into the depths. The abyss beckoned, a mirror of refracted light.

Against her judgment and the cloud milling about her head, her wrinkles stretched into a thin smile.

As fast as it had come about, the moment was done. She rose to her feet and stared down at the waters buffeting the river's shores, the illusions of clarity lost to the current. White froth rose from the riverbed to greet her, lapped up at the sides of her boots in a desperate ploy for her attention.

Zelda glanced down. What few glimpses she caught of her own reflection were torn away by the speed of the water's passage, intent on ravaging the familiar.

Fine by her. Sweep yesterday away.

More would follow.

The river moved without rhyme or reason, as she must. Choices meant little. Wishes for normalcy fell on deaf ears. There seemed to be no terminus to the reddened skies, interwoven with banners of inky night vapor, tolling the time with rings and empty shapes the way puffed-up clouds would drift by on an idle afternoon full of sun and soft encouragement from the trees and flower-brushed hills. With no familiar haunts in sight and a nameless army at her heels, she had made her own fun. No idle hands here.

The cycle continued.

"I've lost many a friend," she mused to the water. Her voice came out raspier than she would have liked. "I suppose I've chosen the wrong hope to die for, if there's no one left to—"

A shout echoed from behind the boulder.

Her interest piqued, Zelda bounded forward on long legs, hands already to the sheath at her side. She checked that her satchel was bound tightly at her waist and stole her way over to the pillar in silence and stealth.

The source of the sound cried out. "You are not touching him! Not on my watch!"

A pillar of light speared through the miasma above, landing some distance behind the rocks. Her breath catching in her chest, muscles tight at the shoulders, Zelda gave a cautionary peek and nearly fell over from the surprise of it all.

"Ha!" The youth belted out a triumphant speech, though the effort was visible on their strained, squinted eyes. The weapon they wielded in their hands—some kind of wand or gleaming sword, perhaps—dropped as their arms shook, desperate to stay aloft. "Same old Dark Matter tricks! You got anything else left in the hat? Anything original? C'mon!"

Growls from mouthless faces surrounded them. The masses floated without limbs to keep them upright. Eyes of every discernable color shone from the depths, and their gazes combined bathed the child in a prismatic spotlight. Orbs of shadow pulled into a ring around the figure and blinked away their confusion; even light-blinded, their malice was tangible through the smoke.

The child blew a raspberry. They brushed pink hair from their brows and pulled one of their arms back, ready to swing. "Okay… Guess that's a no."

With the light of their wand, a sun fallen to earth, Zelda caught a glimpse of the ocean blue in their eyes and the flush in their cheeks. They seemed familiar, somehow—the cadence of their voice, the sparkle like captured starlight in their slowly stretching frown.

"Kinda busy right now." They held their ground. "Last chance to duck out!"

A second presence made their rough, callous voice known. "Don't antagonize them…!"

"Ugh, fiiine," pouted the child. They hunched their shoulders in an exaggeration of a sulk, but the playfulness of their words was relentless even as they fought uninterrupted. "Never get to do anything fun."

"How is this fun?!"

"Well, I dunno, but you have to make it fun! Like an adventure!"

"You've gotta be kidding."

"But you used to make jokes all the time!"

"Focus, Kirby!"

"Fine, fine. Can't have anything nice nowadays—"

Enraged, a shadow broke formation. Its bulbous form swelled, the darkness within a tidal ripple, all bubbling tentacles and shades of white-streaked lightning surrounding an eye beside itself with fury. The message was clear in its reaching tendrils, eager to finally silence the destructive teenager that impeded their way.

Zelda didn't have to intervene: in a blink, the shades disappeared as one. Their remains scattered themselves on the wind, sprinkled into mildewed crevasses in the glassy plain at their feet, rotted away in the enveloping light of a force incomprehensible to her frail eyes.

Yet more spirits poured from the trees, attracted to the bait that was this pink-haired powerhouse, armed and at the ready. Bowstrings creaked back in the canopies. Swords glinted in the undergrowth. Eyes like those of ravenous hunters found the pair and stalked closer.

"I'll draw their fire," they murmured.

"Not sure… that's a good idea."

"Do you trust me?"

"I mean…"

"Hey!"

"Just saying."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'd let you help, with the condition you're—"

Suddenly the underbrush cleaved in two, and from the fallen branches surged the head of a twin battle-axe, wielded by an incorporeal hand severed at the wrist. They swung with abandon, their weapon a sparking bolt of lavender steel as they aimed squarely for the young fighter's chest.

This they dodged with ease, waving their scepter as they went along. The star gleamed, and around their head six vortexes into the nether widened. A rattling hum, like some great engine of war, burst from these fissures and was followed by a meteor hail, gilded as they burned.

With one last cry the assailant crept in with a flurry of blows, all of which the child evaded, untouched. There was a second's pause, and the meteors surged to life.

Instantly, Dark Matter was ripped apart. Their lingering traces drifted free, away into the darkened skies.

"Anyone else wanna go?" The child waved their wand in one hand, victorious. "Don't try anything funny!"

The breath in the skeletal boughs stilled.

A rustle of wind, rocks and obsidian glass like chimes.

Nothing.

Slowly but surely Zelda felt the itch running along her arm melt, the fires of anger bubbling, simmering, wisping to steam. She relaxed her hand away from her sword yet remained pressed against her hiding place.

Just as a precaution. One couldn't be too careful.

"Yeah," they murmured. "What I thought."

A shuffling of cloth: the young figure had dipped out of sight. Zelda heard their words carry over her natural barricade, plain and crisp. "You good, Snake?"

The reply came in a gravelly huff. "That's not the word I'd—agh!"

"Oh, sorry. What was that?"

"My ribs?"

"Where?" A pause, a flutter. "Here?"

"Wh—Don't poke it!"

"Oh. Right. My bad. Humans have weird pointy bits. Y'know, I thought you'd be used to having them broken by now."

"Really?"

"Was that rude? Figured that since you've been through a ton of stuff, maybe you'd built up a tolerance to it or something. I can shut up."

He grunted.

"But you're still hurting. I can—"

"Look, kid," Snake could be heard saying, the edge in his voice sharper now. "I appreciate the help. Just… don't worry about it."

"Sure thing." There was a quick pause. "Do you want anything to drink? I mean, I know you said to leave you alone and not to worry about it but water might help. I don't know if humans are supposed to be thirsty all the time; I just think it might make you feel better even if you don't need it right now."

"I'm fine."

"But what if the wound's dirty? I can clean it out for—"

"Water won't be helpful."

"You don't know that."

"I know I don't wanna make it worse."

"You really think water, of all things…?"

"Do you know for sure?"

"No." They sighed and said, "Guess you're right. There's not much else I can help with, is there?"

"Just hang tight. Don't… do anything reckless."

Zelda could stand the wait no longer. She tumbled out, exposed amidst the formations of stone and slate. Hopefully they remembered her through the long hair, the lines and scars that ached through the night, and what was undoubtedly a haggard look in eyes, unmasking a sense she refused to call human.

They looked over to the source of the sound, and the quiet that lay between the trio was a sheet of pack-ice, immovable. The movements in the sky paused, the sound of thunder retreated in anticipation of what was to come.

The youth approached her. Close up, their eyes reminded Zelda of galaxies, churning with an overwhelming, absolute light that nevertheless drew her in closer with its welcoming gestures, a black hole of newly-minted sights and sounds she could call a second home. Their puffy jacket, torn at the seams, rustled in motion as they held out one petite hand for Zelda to take.

She gave a start. The puzzle clicked, but she refused to return the gesture, to assemble the last piece. It was simply too lucky a coincidence, too fortuitous to be happening to her.

This was an anomaly. There were no other words for it.

Miracles were few and far between in this new world, yet luck seemed to be on her side for the moment.

Recognition passed in their eyes the same way it did in Zelda's, a comet through an orbit once thought lost. They brightened, and the world around them was illuminated with a second sun as they withdrew their hand, pulled their arms wide, and embraced Zelda's waist with a single-minded, childlike glee.

She felt the heartbeat through the coat, the jackrabbiting rhythms mirroring the joy that thumped in her own chest.

Snake, sitting propped up against a boulder and clutching his abdomen, adjusted his posture. He made his best attempt at a nod. "Glad you made it."

Zelda tried her hardest to avoid staring at his scars. Years had passed, the weeks flowing effortlessly, and Snake…

He wasn't getting any younger.

"I'm glad to see other survivors." Inside, her stomach acid curdled. How of all people did he manage? Had he scuttled away somewhere, biding his time until the worst of the storm passed him by? "I—I mean to say, I've missed you all as well. I don't know how long it's been or how time passes, but it's good to—"

The child took this time to tighten their grip, and the remainder of Zelda's words were squeezed from her with a tea-kettle's hiss. "All right, y-you're crushing me…"

"Oh, uh, my bad!" They pulled away, their grin radiant. "Happy to see you, Zelda!"

The princess of Hyrule dropped down to one knee and took the child's hand, suppressing a gasp. "By the Goddess. You're talking. And you're… How are you in this form?"

They quirked their neck and blinked. "Um. Like, human?"

"I've never seen you like this. You've always been on the… puffier side. And shorter. And without hair."

"Ah, y'know." They winked. "I like to mix up my wardrobe."

"It suits you."

Kirby blushed. They scuffed the bottom of their shoe on the ground before whispering, "I actually, uh… I have no idea why. I've never really thought about it, y'know? I was like, 'this may as well happen' and just stopped worrying. Things usually work out like that."

"And you're still cheery as always." Zelda couldn't help but be relieved. Their presence meant more questions than answers, but the ice block sequestered between her lungs softened a fraction.

"Zelda?"

She turned to Snake. "What is it?"

Blood dripped in a noticeable trail from his sandpaper beard. He let out a slight cough from between clenched teeth and wiped at the corner of his mouth before he began to speak. "You see anyone else around?"

"No, it's just been me for…" Her back sagged. She kept her stare. "I don't know how long, but that shouldn't be your biggest worry right now. What happened?"

"I wasn't watching close enough," Kirby intervened, the wonder in their eyes overtaken by panic. "We got ambushed. They just appeared all at once, like they were planning this, or someone else was planning it for them. They got Snake before I had time to fight back, but I—I'm sure it's nothing we can't fix with sleep and maybe some first aid. It's been a few days, I think, and he's still alive." Their breath came in bursts, sweat rolling down their temples. "I know we're asking a lot, but can you help?"

She placed a hand on their shoulder. "If I don't know the exact nature of the wound then I can't fix it. Will you permit me to look?"

Snake sized her up. His eyes lingered on the back of her right hand for several seconds before he nodded slowly, still clenching his jaws together.

Careful to keep her patient as still as possible, Zelda knelt beside Snake and moved his hand away from his stomach. He winced at the touch, and his suit recoiled from beneath Zelda's palm.

"Sorry about that," she rushed out.

He grunted. "It's fine."

What was she to say? She only vaguely remembered the last time they had talked, a rush of fists and battlefield adrenaline, but it wasn't like they had much in common, shared experience or no. Even on a good day he was… crass. All business. He hadn't been there to mince words: in, out. Get the job done.

Zelda shrugged the memory aside. Another time, she could indulge herself, find a corner of the world and reminisce. Survival came first.

Her train of thought disappeared as she stared deeper at the gash, cutting through skin and tearing muscle. Running along the edges of the gouge mark was a network of charred veins, stained to the bone with ink-blood and ashen tar. Black smoke wafted from the exposed wound.

She pulled away. A shock jolted down her spine.

Snake suppressed a cough of laughter. "That bad?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Shoot."

"It doesn't look good." She began to rifle through her belongings: wasted bandages, knickknacks from departed souls. "In all my time here, I've never seen such… an ugly wound."

"Thanks."

"It was Dark Matter," Kirby stepped in. "I wish I knew exactly what they did but this isn't like anything I've ever seen…"

"It looks infected."

"Y-Yeah."

The princess sat down heavily. She swept hair back from her eyes and ears. "I'm not a specialized healer. I can keep the wound clean and wrap it up, but if it's a dark spell or corruption of some kind… I'll need longer."

"How encouraging," he drawled.

She grimaced. Had he always been this abrasive? "Such acts of purification are beyond the scope of my expertise, and this is not a malady I'm familiar with. I can't begin to tell you the nature of what torments you. We can only hope it disappears on its own."

"Your whole deal is banishing evil, isn't it?"

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. "Not every affliction is the same. Curses are not interchangeable, and neither is the magic responsible. I can't exactly wish them away."

Kirby pulled at the collar of their jacket. "Wait, wait. Are—Are we even sure it's a curse or anything? What if that mist stuff is harmless? I don't wanna overreact, stress ourselves out for nothing, y'know?"

"I know." Zelda pulled out a suture kit, threading the stitches into the needle. "But it's better to be prepared. There are only so many outcomes within our control."

The child watched her motions, enrapt. "Yeah."

"Okay, here we go." She exhaled and punctured skin, weaving her tapestry across the incision. Had to be loose for this part. "I need you to relax."

He complied as the first stitch bridged the gap. Immediately he hissed between his teeth.

"Sorry," Zelda paused. Wasn't he used to this by now? "I can take it slower."

"It's fine."

She regarded him with a second glare. The most reckless men thought they were better off hiding pieces of themselves, at a detriment to others. One benefit to traveling alone, perhaps, not having to bother with such folk. "It doesn't look too life-threatening. I can wrap it and come back later if you're—"

"No," he said. "It's okay. Keep going."

Shrugging, Zelda continued her work in relative peace.

Over time she grew aware of the way her fingers brushed up against Snake's chest and stomach as she sewed the wound shut. There was no need for intimacy, yet this warmth, the sense of closeness she'd once forgotten now was a wailing, a drumbeat impossible to ignore. One other old and tired body wandering this plane of darkness, lost in the cosmic void.

Snake frowned. "What's funny?"

"Oh?" She must have been smiling. "Not quite funny, but…"

"But what?"

"Luck is a fascinating thing."

"Never seems to stick with me," he grunted.

She nodded her head. "Such is its way."

But she had room to count her blessings. What mattered. The faces and names she still held close, like warm bodies in the night.

Perhaps Snake understood, or perhaps he didn't. The shadows beneath his eyes clung to something deep and secretive, tempting her closer to unravel what lie beneath.

First, her duties. Discoveries would come in due time.

The knot was tugged tight, the string severed. "All set."

Snake made to get up. Out of habit Zelda reached to steady him, force him back down. His stare cut daggers into her, but she remained firm. "But I didn't say you could move."

"Doc," he assured, "it's fine. See? No blood."

Kirby giggled.

Still keeping Snake in her line of sight, Zelda rummaged around for a roll of gauze and bandages. "I don't think you need a reminder of how life-threatening infection would be at this stage."

"Nope."

"Then you should have no problem with me taking a few extra… safety measures."

"Not at all."

"Excellent." She stuffed the site of injury with a softer cloth and slowly but surely began to wrap Snake's midsection. "This will only be a moment."

"Don't waste your energy." His hand embraced hers, opening her fingers for the gauze. "Just let me do it."

"Do you know how?"

He stared, saying nothing.

She hummed. "Fine."

Kirby asked, "He's gonna be okay, right?"

Zelda watched Snake work while he rolled a stripe around the entirety of his abdomen once, then twice. His movements were economical, efficient, a departure from the methods she deployed. "We've done all we can."

"That's true," they said. "It's just… I'm worried."

Justified, the Hylian thought while her hands moved to pack up her supplies. Practice had made her motions seamless. Another injury, another day marked not by the sun or afternoon shadows cresting overhead.

She stilled, glanced down. Her fingers shook, continued to. It had been a while, she presumed, since she had last come to the aid of another. Though Kirby seemed new to the concept of worry, they were not alone in their sentiment.

Zelda turned to Snake. "How are you feeling?"

He patted the wrappings, threw the roll back to her. "Fine."

The back of her hand itched, the sensations stronger atop the Triforce. "At least now you won't have to worry about a completely open wound. Keep applying pressure and you'll make it."

"Thanks."

"Well. Now that I'm here, let's worry about finding somewhere safe. We can parse the other stuff out on the way."

Stay on track. Company was welcome, but they weren't out of trouble just yet.

They stared at her, wordless.

She returned their gazes. "What is it?"

"Huh? Oh. Nothing, really." Kirby shared a rosy, full-hearted smile. "I'm just glad to see people I know."

"So you've seen no one else around?"

"Yeah. More or less."

"You've taken good care of yourself," Snake volunteered.

"I wouldn't be here otherwise," she said. "But your kindness is appreciated."

Yet again Zelda met Snake's eyes: distant, a cold, calculating stare that hinted at nary a weakness. She perceived no ulterior motives behind his scar-riddled façade, the bend in his nose bruised purple. Her heart skipped a beat. Again came that sense of the intimate—not a long-awaited return but a pained reveal that drove a chill down her spine.

As in her own heart and mind, and through her divine blessing, she perceived in the soldier the weight of an unfamiliar and inescapable truth.

If he picked up on her demeanor or noticed her staring, he kept quiet. He turned away, suppressing a cough.

Kirby pointed off some distance into the woods. "I think I see a glade out there. We can build a fire, get caught up!"

"Hate to break it to you, kid, but fire's a bad idea."

"C'mon, we haven't built one for days!"

"Because we've seen too many hostiles nearby to risk it."

"Oh, like they don't already know we're here. You make enough noise as is!"

"Wh—Me?! What about you?"

"I'm only noisy when I want to be!"

Zelda found herself staring, half in shock. Her heart crept up to her mouth, not in fear but something wholly new. The whole moment was surreal, jarring in its spontaneity and change of pace, but she had to admit: having room to breathe was a luxury she had wanted for a long time. Craved, even. Enough to spend restless, waking nights and lucid dreams wishing such a moment into being.

She wasn't about to waste it.